I hummed in understanding although my stomach twisted with uncertainty, and moved the tray back to the side table. “Let me redress your wound, then we can be on the road.”

“Okay.”

It was the work of minutes for me to gather the supplies—a clean bandage, the healing ointment, and a hot cloth—though I took my time tending to him. I was careful when wiping away the specks of blood from the small cut, my chest aching at its harshness. I applied a thin layer of cream before securing the new dressing in place.

“Done.”

Luca smiled at me in thanks, and before I could even stand, he whipped back the covers and sprang to his feet, only to wobble unsteadily and clap a hand to his forehead. Before I could fret, he laughed, the sound a little strained. “’M okay, just stood up too fast.”

After a brief respite, he vanished into the bathroom and closed the door. I gave him his privacy, of course, but kept my senses on alert should he require assistance. He reappeared minutes later without incident, his hair slightly more orderly and his face red from scrubbing. He wandered over to his backpack to fish out a clean outfit, and my eyes followed his every move. I tried not to make it obvious, busying myself with straightening out the bed covers while he dressed.

He was quiet, which struck me as unusual in itself. Typically, even when he performed mundane tasks, he would mumble to himself or hum a tune under his breath, maybe even ramble to me about his latest interest, but he said nothing. I wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t unnerve me, but I didn’t know what to do other than give him space and hope he would open up if something troubled him.

In his own time.

“Fuck,” he cursed, snatching up the sock he’d dropped on the floor before shoving his foot into the hole. He caught me glancing over, and he smiled, but the sweat beading at his brow and his slightly elevated heart rate belied the gesture.

“Are you⁠—”

“I’m fine,” he chirped, cutting me off as he whirled around to grab his shirt. He fumbled with the hem, jaw clenching in frustration when it wouldn’t part on the first try. He firmly shook out the fabric, his breath releasing sharply from his nose, and that was when I noticed his balance was off.

He was falling.

I was already advancing toward him with my arm outstretched when he stumbled forward with a gasp, his shirt dropping to the floor. He managed to right himself before toppling completely, though I still reached out instinctively to offer support. “Luc⁠—”

He swerved violently away from my touch.